


Noblesse Aeternus

by Olivier_Mira



Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: Alchemy, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Character Death Fix, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, NoblesseFixit, Obsession, Resurrection, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-22 14:23:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17061416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olivier_Mira/pseuds/Olivier_Mira
Summary: SPOILERS for Noblesse 543/end of series. Written as a fix-it between 543 and 544 (the epilogue). Frankenstein takes matters into his own hands.





	Noblesse Aeternus

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I put every ounce of strength I had left into this. I hope it helps those of you who have been as gutted as I have with the end of Noblesse. Those of you who have read my fics will recognize certain parts (Frankenstein’s shrine, etc.). Franky gets alchemical in this fic. It’s all standard medieval alchemy rather than the FMA or HP variety (so no worries about Rai coming back as a homunculus or something). Most of the Latin is from an alchemical text known as the Emerald Tablet, which I would be happy to discuss with anyone in the comments. I include torture in the tags in reference to alchemical transmutation (as opposed to, say, the Union). I bow in the direction of C.S. Lewis, whose storytelling I could only ever hope to come close to. Thank you to BFHwantsblood for her eternal support. This wouldn’t have been possible without her. Music: Beethoven's 6th. And take heart, fellow RK members. This is not the end. As J.R.R. Tolkien said, the cauldron of story is ever boiling. So many more fanworks will be born out of the ashes. Just wait and see.

 

Frankenstein honestly didn’t know how he had managed to make it back home. He really hoped he hadn’t killed anyone (well, anyone who didn’t deserve it). It was all a nauseating blur. The last thing he remembered was Tao saying to him over the audio _< <_He said... he said to tell you… ‘I’m sorry, Frankenstein.’>>

_No. Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking._

This wasn’t happening. His Master’s coffin. Empty. It had cracked under his grip. _Cracked._ That shouldn’t be _possible._ Unless. Unless he was really…

_No._

He kept repeating that to himself, over and over again, like a litany: _No. We can fix this. No. We haven’t exhausted all the possibilities. No. We’ve been through this before. It wasn’t true then. It can’t be true now. No, no, NO!_ He punctuated that assertion by sweeping everything off the table as he came flying into his lab, fumbling with the tiny key to the tiny drawer… Then he stopped, dazed, dropping to his knees. Shaking hands picked up smashed pieces, heedlessly being cut by the sharp glass, watching his blood drip, dripping to the floor. The electric teapot. His _Master’s_ teapot, the one he would use to make Raizel a cup of tea when he would come down in the early morning hours to join Frankenstein while he worked on some late-night experiment…

_Broken. Everything was broken._

Dropping the shattered pieces, he put his head in his hands, rocking back and forth, keening quietly, trying to stem the maelstrom of horrible thoughts whirling through his head – _why, why would you do that?? horrible, horrible; you ruin everything; ruiner, ruiner; you had him here; you had him and you took advantage of him; you ignored him so that you could obsess over your perverse experiments; monster, monster; that’s all you are; now how do you like it; he’s gone, gone; you’re alone, alone, forever alone. And it’s all your fault._

Punching the nearest object, which was probably a $10,000 piece of lab equipment that he literally could care less about right now, he used his now broken hand to painfully pull himself up. _It doesn’t matter. Just get the fucking key._

Now it was even harder to make his quivering, injured fingers fit the key into the lock of the tiny drawer. _Come on, come on…!_ Finally, the drawer shot open and Frankenstein removed a larger key, an ancient key. One that he hadn’t touched in… had it been a year? A year since his Master had… come back to him…

_No. Stop thinking._

Grabbing the heavy bronze key, he hurried back to the elevator, paying no attention to the mountain of untidiness he had just left in his wake, a sure sign that he was _not_ well. He tried to breathe. He tried not to think. _Just get there. Just get there, just get there, just get there._

Placing his hand on the mechanical panel, he concentrated. The floor he needed to get to was in between two floors. There was no button for it and it was designed specifically to go unnoticed, even by his Master. _Especially_ by his Master. Raizel would not have approved of the contents within. Luckily for Frankenstein, technology and spatial relations were two of his Master’s relative weaknesses. As far as he knew, Raizel had never discovered Frankenstein’s secret shrine.

He had almost destroyed it when his Master came back to him. Almost. But today, as he unlocked door after secret door, he was incredibly thankful for his own vigilance and paranoia. In the back of his mind, this had always been a terrifying possibility. He hadn’t wanted to think about it, but he couldn’t help it: a part of him always assumed the absolute worst. A part of him always defaulted to his baseline: that he had always been alone in the world; that eventually he would go back to being alone; and if he wanted to survive, he’d had to find a way to fight his own demons and then claw his way back to sanity, alone.

The final door was the most difficult, particularly in the state he was currently in. Clicking the heavy key in place, he first had to summon the energy of the Dark Spear to initiate the unlocking sequence. That wasn’t the hard part, as he had recently absorbed Crombel and the Dark Spear was now so enormous that it was a concern even to Frankenstein himself. _I really fucking overdid it this time,_ he thought. But after that, he had to grasp the huge metal ring and somehow pull the massive stone door open, running on about one tenth of his usual strength. _Make that one twentieth._

Summoning even more Dark power, he inhaled, doing his best to heal his broken hand. _Right. Get your shit together. Let’s not make this harder than it already is._ Then he put both hands on the ring and pulled with all the strength he had left. It was arduous, but the heavy door finally began to move. _Maybe I really am a little too goddamned paranoid. Not that it matters now._

He had to take several breaks to stop and breathe, but eventually the great block of stone gave way enough for him to slither inside. After repeating the process to get the damned thing closed – slightly easier, but not by much - Frankenstein collapsed onto the huge pile of dusty red velvet pillows that had not seen his wretched face since his Master had returned to him.

The musty smell of the pillows alone immediately brought to mind the hours and hours of misery he had spent here in the past. _Master._ Tears were already coursing down his cheeks although he had not yet begun the ritual he had practiced here, or in similar places, for hundreds of years. He allowed himself a few minutes of quiet agony curled up in the dark before stumbling painfully to his feet. _You know what you need to do. Best get on with it._

Along the far wall there was a sconce with an ancient torch attached to it. Frankenstein wasn’t sure it would still light, since he hadn’t been down here for nearly a year, but fortunately, after a little coaxing, it blazed to life. He placed a new taper candle into the bronze holder he kept there and wrapped his index finger around it, its familiar hold a small comfort to him.

Then he began a journey he had taken many, many times before. Starting with the first candle in the first niche in the dark stone wall, he touched the small flame to each wick, one at a time. As he did so, he recalled the origin of each of the jewel-like red candle holders ensconced in the wall. Most were from churches in towns that Frankenstein had visited while searching for his Master. Some were made of glass, some precious stones. Some were intricately designed, scarlet wings edged with gold, blood red pomegranates bursting with fruit, crimson dragons surrounded by all-consuming flames.

There were hundreds and hundreds of them, representing the places all around the world where Frankenstein had searched in vain for his Master. He had left no stone unturned, literally: he delved deep under mountains, crossed scorching hot deserts, stole into ancient pyramids, explored frigid Arctic ice caves, questioned every wise man, every sacred priestess, every single solitary human being, werewolf, Noble – _anyone_ who might lead him closer to his Master.

As he stopped to light each small candle, he repeated the same litany over and over: _I will find you. I will find you. I will find you._ His hands shook and he had to relight the taper candle several times, scalding himself with hot wax. _Master. I will find you. I will come for you. I will bring you back. I don’t care if I have to claw my way to the ends of the earth; if I have to tear the fabric of reality itself. I will save you._

When he reached the midpoint, after having traversed the entire room so that it was now bathed in soft rosy light, he lifted his candle once more. This time, it started a chain reaction that caused a line of flames to leap up behind a delicate wrought iron grate, revealing the ornate gold-framed painting at the center of the altar. An illuminated icon of a strikingly beautiful saint with long dark hair and melancholy red eyes.

Frankenstein had meant to ask his Master, one day, about the story behind this painting he had discovered centuries ago. About the village he had apparently saved and the young girl who had clearly once met his Master – the likeness was uncanny – and had grown up to create this exquisite work of art. But he had been too ashamed. He was afraid Raizel would see it in his mind, the painting, the shrine… And then he would see, then he would know… just how _pathetic_ Frankenstein really, truly was without him. Just thinking about it made his insides curdle with self-hatred.

Dropping to his knees, he put his head in his hands against the crushed velvet shelf of the prie-dieu he had set before his Master and _wept._ Great, aching sobs wracked his entire body as he poured out his grief, his anguish, his abject disbelief that he was _here,_ _again!_ So soon! How had this happened? _How had he let this happen??_

When he noticed his hands gripping the prie-dieu in a way that he feared would break it in two, he forced himself to relinquish it and skidded back against the cobblestone floor. Practiced fingers found the cracks where the hidden mechanism lay. In an instant, he was trapped, his arms and legs pinned to the floor by cold, heavy stone, which he had reinforced many times over. From this position, he could do what he came here to do: summon the Dark Spear and let it rage, unchecked. Because that was all he had now. Himself and the Dark Spear for all eternity.

Frankenstein didn’t care anymore. No one was here to stop him. So what if the newly-fed Dark Spear consumed him entirely? An eternity in Hell is apparently what he deserved. He took a breath.

“Answer my call, Dark S-”

A sudden crack, like lightning, startled Frankenstein. _Had the Dark Spear acted on its own??_ But no… this was something else. Above where he lay prostrate, staring up at the darkness, an image appeared.

**_“Frankenstein.”_ **

_“Master??”_ Frankenstein was frozen in disbelief. Cadis Etrama Di Raizel had suddenly materialized before his eyes. He was immediately reminded of the way the Previous Lord had appeared to them in Lukedonia. _But did that mean his Master truly was…?_

**_“Do not be afraid. I am sure you are surprised to see me here. You probably did not think I knew about this room. Frankenstein. You may be able to lie to the children, but you have never been able to keep secrets from me.”_ **

Frankenstein blushed despite himself, admonished. _Of course he knew. He_ always _knew._

**_“If you have returned to this room, it must mean that I have disappeared. Please do not despair, my Bonded.”_ **

“M-Master…” Frankenstein could feel hot tears starting afresh in his eyes.

**_“Let me remind you of two things. First, you are strong. You are one of the strongest living creatures I have ever met. You will get through this.”_ **

_But, Master,_ Frankenstein thought, almost perversely glad that this was only a shade of Raizel, who therefore couldn’t read his mind, _there is one fallacy in your argument. You have never seen me without you._

**_“Second, human beings and even most Nobles may have forgotten this fact, but it is a fundamental truth: there always has been and there always will be a Noblesse. The Noblesse cannot be destroyed. The true name of the Noblesse is Noblesse Aeternus.”_ **

Frankenstein stared. _Noblesse Aeternus: the Eternal Noblesse._ Did that mean what he thought it meant? Could there still be a chance…?

**_“Frankenstein. You must go to my shrine. There you will know what to do. But know this: you will be asked to give up the burden you bear. I am sorry to have to tell you this… I had hoped for another way. But you must do it. You must restore the flow. It is imperative.”_ **

His Master’s shrine… in Lukedonia. He could do that. But what did the rest of the message mean? _The burden you bear,_ Frankenstein could imagine what that referred to, but, _you must restore the flow…?_ It made no sense to him.

**_“Do not delay. Much has already been set in motion.”_ **

It seemed like the ephemeral image was beginning to fade. “Master! Don’t leave! Please! Don’t leave me!” Frankenstein struggled against his bonds, momentarily forgetting that he had the ability to release himself, but it hardly mattered: even if he were free, he couldn’t prevent the transient vision of Raizel from disappearing.

**_“Frankenstein. You can do this. I trust you.”_ **

With that, Raizel disappeared. Frankenstein lay against the smooth stones, panting. So much had happened so quickly. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. _Right. Lukedonia._

***

Poor Tao had had to bear the burden of witnessing Raizel’s final moments – _not_ final, Frankenstein’s brain quickly amended, _not if I have anything to say about it._ Frankenstein hated to burden the kid yet again, but he had few options. Swearing Tao to secrecy, he let him know where he was going and roughly what he planned to do in case the worst happened and he, too, disappeared without a trace. Leaving the kids with absolutely nothing was not acceptable to Frankenstein. He knew very well what it felt like to be suddenly abandoned. Besides, Tao was fast on his feet, even when exhausted. He suggested that if Frankenstein were planning on taking a plane to Lukedonia in a similar fashion to the last time, to please allow him to remote pilot the plane and give Frankenstein a chance to come back in it, rather than crashing yet another one into the sea. Exhausted himself, Frankenstein agreed.

***

As he leaped out of the plane, he briefly wondered if he would have to bother with the Central Knights or any other security forces. Fortunately, all of Lukedonia seemed to have congregated around the Lord’s palace, unsurprisingly. Frankenstein couldn’t help but wonder if there was any hope for the Lukedonians who had apparently given their lives in the same fashion as his Master. It was doubtful, but then, there had been many Nobles whom everyone thought had gone to Eternal Sleep in the past who had in fact returned very much alive. He himself had been presumed dead hundreds of times, but he also had a knack for coming back. _Like a noxious weed,_ he thought. Many people over the centuries had tried to get rid of him. He had sent most of them to Hell. _Hope springs eternal._

Arriving at his Master’s shrine was bittersweet. The last time he had been here, he had been blissful with Raizel’s return. Sadly, he had never been successful at convincing his Master to rest here. Maybe he should have insisted? But that would have been fruitless. Raizel had wanted to remain in this century with those he had come to love. Going to sleep for another long stretch would mean that most of the humans he had come to know would be deceased by the time he returned. How could Frankenstein begrudge his Master a bit more time with those he loved?

The ancient door creaked slowly open. Once inside, Frankenstein was met with a surprise. It looked completely different from before. Everything had been moved around and a huge stone table now stood in the center of the room. **_Much has already been set in motion_** , his Master had said. Was this what he had meant?

Frankenstein approached the massive table at the heart of the shrine with caution, not sure exactly what he was dealing with. When he examined it, however, comprehension slowly dawned on him. The round table was covered with alchemical symbols, mostly referring to the process of transmutation. Carved around the outside of the table was a huge serpent eating its own tail. The _ouroboros,_ symbol of the eternal unity of all things, the cycle of life, death and rebirth.

 _So… was this how the Noblesse was reborn?_ A thousand questions sprang into Frankenstein’s mind. Had this happened to his Master before? Had there been another Noblesse before Raizel? How exactly did this process work? Who initiated it? What was the catalyst? The reagent? Or perhaps… the reactant? His hand brushed against the great serpent that ringed the table and he immediately noticed a deep groove in the stone. As he traced it with a solitary finger, he realized that the groove started with a deep depression in the stone right at the fulcrum of the snake’s mouth and then traveled all the way around the circle and up into the center, like a labyrinth.

 _Of course._ The power of the Noblesse had always been that of blood. So, the reactant must be blood. Frankenstein had no problem bleeding for his Master, or even giving up his life in exchange for Raizel’s. But what was it his Master had said? **_You will be asked to give up the burden you bear. You must restore the flow._** Raizel would never have knowingly sent Frankenstein to his death. And the only burden Frankenstein bore, besides his grief over his Master, was…

Before his brain could finish fully processing that thought or before panic rendered him immobile, he immediately summoned a claw and gashed open his right forearm, spilling red blood into the mouth of the serpent. The alchemical table instantly came alive, the carved symbols glowing crimson. Frankenstein felt himself being lifted into the air and then landed sharply flat on his back, once again lying atop cold stone, his arms and legs held fast.

The Dark Spear rose up immediately to defend him and suddenly Frankenstein found himself in the middle of a terrible battle. Rather, he himself was the battleground between forces he barely understood. He could grasp enough to know what was coming, however, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. Bracing himself, he pictured in his mind the arcane texts he had studied long ago, lifetimes ago, it seemed.

_According to the Magnum Opus, the alchemical process of transmutation is divided into four stages: nigredo, albedo, citrinitas, rubedo._

_Stage One, Nigredo: the blackening. Heating a substance over an open flame until it is reduced to ashes. Fire, calcination, destruction, putrefaction, decomposition. Pater eius est Sol: “Its father is the Sun.”_

A terrible burning pain lanced through him and Frankenstein arched his back, feeling like his very soul had been set on fire. He could hear a horrendous screeching from the Dark Spear itself, which was currently under attack. _It_ was in pain, so it was spewing all its vitriol at him even more virulently than usual.

Frankenstein was used to the Dark Spear, even at its worst, but there was another voice that he could hear above the din and _that_ voice was like the scraping of nails on a chalkboard. All of a sudden he could feel the stone table moving beneath him and he came to the horrifying realization that the dreadful utterance was the voice of the serpent itself. It raised its hideous head, spat out its own tail and brought its terrifying face inches from Frankenstein’s, giving him a creeping horror.

“You _dare!”_ it shouted – _she_ shouted; the snake was female, he somehow perceived. “THIEF! You _dare_ enter here, to ask something of _me,_ from whom you have _stolen!”_

 _Thief? Stolen? What was she talking about?_ Frankenstein tried to think, but between being faced with the terrifying maw of a hideous snake, the screaming of the Dark Spear and feeling like he was burning from the inside out, these were not exactly ideal conditions for figuring out riddles.

“P-lease!” He figured begging would be a good place to start. “I’m not here for myself. I’ve come on behalf of my Master, the Noblesse Aeternus.”

The serpent hissed, spitting venom in Frankenstein’s face. He winced in pain, but maintained eye contact nevertheless.

“You _dare_ to call the Noblesse your Master, when you have purposefully hindered him in his vocation?”

“What??” Frankenstein hadn’t meant to say that out loud – he was not in the habit of pissing off large snakes – but he did not take kindly to anyone accusing him of being untrue to his Master. Although he was hardly blameless, the one constant in his life since Raizel had appeared in it was that he had always faithfully served his Master.

The fearful serpent coiled as if preparing to strike.

“Frankenssssstein, the great blasssssphemer, the one who knows no bounds. You think because you have meddled in things that you do not understand that this makes you wise. Yet you do not even know your own Master’s true calling.”

Trying to breathe through the pain, Frankenstein answered as best he could. “My Master restores the balance. He is the judge and executioner. When someone transgresses, oversteps or claims too much power, he steps in.”

“And yet!” The high-pitched shriek of the snake made Frankenstein feel like his ears were bleeding. “Here you are, the greatest transgressor of them all! Yet you still _live!”_

 _Oh come on,_ Frankenstein thought. _I’m not_ that _bad._ It wasn’t like he had tried to kill all the humans like Muzaka, or to blow up the entire planet like Crombel.

“Not that bad? Is that what you truly believe?”

_Great. Snakes that read minds. This is going to be a picnic._

“Then tell me, Thief. _HOW IS IT THAT YOU JUSTIFY STEALING 900,000 SOULS THAT RIGHTFULLY BELONG TO ME??”_

Frankenstein was trying to figure out what on earth she meant by that when he was suddenly assaulted with a cacophony of hideous voices, as if the Dark Spear’s volume had been cranked up to 11. He was used to the clamor of the Dark Spear, but these were thousands of voices – no, hundreds of thousands – all roaring in his head at once. If he hadn’t had quite a lot of practice in maintaining his sanity under duress, he would have gone mad in that instant.

Gritting his teeth to keep from screaming along with the tortured souls, Frankenstein was trying desperately to understand what the hell was happening. _Hundreds of thousands…?_ There was no way his body count was that high. But of course, the Dark Spear also contained souls that had been originally trapped there by the Union. But _nine hundred thousand??_ He had had no idea it was that many.

“I never – I did not intentionally trap those souls! I was not the creator of the Dark Spear! I only took control of it to prevent something worse from happening!”

“Ssssssss-so tell me, Blassssphemer,” the fearsome voice continued, “When you realized you were the custodian of thousands of trapped souls, did you even _try_ to set those souls free?”

“I… I…” Frankenstein hesitated. He realized that there was nothing he could possibly say that would justify this particular sin. It wasn’t that he hadn’t considered trying to free all of the individuals trapped in the Dark Spear. Rather, it was more that he realized from the beginning that such a task was beyond him. And, well, he had to admit it… when he first became aware of the power contained within the Dark Spear, he had become obsessed with trying to figure out how to harness it. It had significantly augmented his abilities. But in his defense, it was either that or be destroyed by it. He hadn’t had much of a choice in that regard. Nevertheless, he could tell that excuses were not going to help much in this situation. “I did not.”

“Filthy humans! You have always been the greediest for power!”

 _Right, because werewolves weren’t greedy for power at all,_ Frankenstein thought bitterly. Annoyed, he struggled against his bonds, but they were solid as stone. He hadn’t come here to be condemned for his sins. _What did all of this have to do with Master?_

“I shall show you, Plague Among Men,” the serpent jeered, coiling its bulk on top of Frankenstein’s chest, making it hard for him to breathe. “You humans are all the same, with your unquenchable thirst. You never get it through your heads, what your biggest failing is: _Know. Your. Place!”_

The ghastly voices reached a thunderous pitch and Frankenstein threw his head back and screamed. A massive roaring met his ears, separate from the bellowing voices, and he realized that the sanctuary was abruptly being flooded with great torrents of water. At first, the welcome wave of cool water washing over him was a huge relief, a balm against his burning hot skin. But he soon figured out with a jolt that the water was rushing in very quickly with no sign of stopping and that the doors of the shrine had slammed shut.

 _Right. Breathe._ What fresh hell was coming next?

_Stage Two, Albedo: the whitening. Water, purification, ablution, dissolution, the washing away of impurities. Opening. Dissolving of ashes in water. Mater eius est Luna,“Its Mother is the Moon.”_

The sudden clash of fire and water created great billows of steam and for a moment, Frankenstein couldn’t see anything at all. Slowly, indistinct images began to appear: multi-colored streams flowing in different directions, a double helix pattern… no, wait, he knew that symbol, that was…

The ephemeral vision had already shifted, however, bringing one particular stream into view, a river of deep crimson… His _Master’s_ stream. Tears leaked out of Frankenstein’s eyes unwillingly. _Water on top of water._

As they moved in closer, what Frankenstein saw amazed him. The red stream was vibrant, thriving and flourishing, blossoming with crimson flowers of every variety. Scarlet snapdragons, ruby red poppies and everywhere the Noblesse went, blood red roses bloomed. It was as if his Master were a great gardener. In certain places, the Noblesse would remove excess branches so that the blossoms would bloom all the brighter. In others, where the plants were diseased or overgrown, he would uproot them entirely and they would then wither and die. The flowers that perished did not simply disappear, however. They became food for the serpent, who slithered under the earth below them. It was all so masterfully done, so precise, so thoughtful, so… beautiful.

Next they came to a place where the stream, which had darkened from scarlet to violet, was suddenly interrupted. Instead of neatly pruned flowers, there were huge, bulbous vines, swelling with poisoned fruit that was withering in place. The engorged fruit looked as if it were about to drop, but it did not. It simply swelled and swelled. This distended vine had brought the whole system to a halt. The serpent was not fed. The flow had stopped. Everything had stopped. In this thorny section, the gardener had been prevented from doing his job.

“Because of One. Greedy. Human,” the serpent hissed.

The heavy purple vines began swirling right above Frankenstein. When they had twisted themselves around him entirely, the bloated fruit burst, covering him in thick purple goo. He abruptly found himself back on the stone table, except now he was drowning in purple sludge instead of water.

“Do you not see it? The world as you know it almost came to an end. This corrupt power that was allowed to grow unchecked took your Master from you. And yet, you still do not recognize its source.”

Frankenstein choked, trying desperately to keep his head above the quagmire that was swallowing him. _She’s… she’s saying it’s my fault. Crombel stole those notes from me. That makes all of this my fault._

_Master died because of me._

It hit him like ten thousand pounds of granite. He could no longer tell the difference between his own screaming and that of the Dark Spear. None of it mattered anymore. Nothing mattered.

“J-just…” he coughed, voice like gravel. “Just _kill_ me already!” He deserved to die. He deserved all of this torment. What had he ever done except to destroy? To ruin? To sow seeds of chaos? His beautiful Master, always so full of kindness, tenderly cultivating lovely crimson blossoms for thousands of years, _gone,_ because of his own greed…!

“JUST LET ME DIE!” Frankenstein shouted violently, struggling desperately against his restraints, to no avail.

The serpent only laughed a hissing laugh. “You know that I cannot allow that. If you died now, you would only be swallowed by that hideous weapon and compound the problem. No, I’m afraid you are going to have to endure the torment of living with your sins.”

Frankenstein had been through quite a lot in his long and dangerous life, but he honestly did not know how much more of this he could take. The waters rose once again and he was sure he was about to drown, when he found himself unexpectedly free from his bonds, being carried along. His head breached the surface and he could see a small speck of blue sky ahead, which at least looked promising. When he reached the light, however, he found himself suddenly in thin air. The water had flowed out onto the face of a cliff. Frankenstein panicked and grasped desperately at the side of the cliff wall. The wind was freezing and incredibly strong.

_Stage Three, Citrinitas: the yellowing. Air, awakening, separation, filtration, distillation. Repeated boiling and condensation of the solution to increase its purity. Portavit illud Ventus in ventre suo, “The Wind hath carried it in its stomach.”_

The wind was about to carry him right off this cliff. He clung to it with slippery fingers, no energy left to invoke the power of flight. Frankenstein was rapidly coming to his wits’ end.

“What is it you _want_ from me??” he cried out.

The serpent was there, in the wind. “You know what I want. _I want those souls._ ”

Frankenstein shuddered, seriously afraid of losing his grip. He was beyond exhausted. Abject fear was the only thing holding him to the cliff wall.

“I… I…”

 _ **You must give up the burden you carry.** _Could he really do this? His soul had been intricately bound up with the Dark Spear for centuries. Would he even survive?

The terrible serpent was relentless. “You _claim_ that you are here to revive the Noblesse Aeternus in order for him to continue to fulfill his purpose. Yet this is a _lie!_ You are here because of your pathetic human emotional attachment to your Master!”

Frankenstein would have put his head in his hands, but he was too busy clinging to the cliffside for dear life. “Y-you’re right, okay? I am attached to him. _I need him!”_ he shouted, his voice catching. “I need… I need…” Tears blurred his vision and he blinked furiously, afraid to lose a handhold by brushing them away. He pressed his forehead against cold stone.

_I am nothing without him._

_Which means I truly am nothing._

In that moment, the icy blade of absolute grief struck his heart, and Frankenstein howled. He clung onto the jagged rocks and wailed his wretched lament to the wind, crying, choking. Guttural, animal sounds tore their way out of him. Moaning, gasping for breath, he screamed until he had nothing left.

_Master._

An incredibly beautiful and amazingly kind being had taken him in – _him! a plague among men!_ Against all hope, against all odds, he had been given a second chance, a miracle. And he _squandered it._ He _ruined_ it. Like he had ruined everything. He had _lost_ him, he had _failed,_ and now he was left alone, broken and devastated, with nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Go ahead,” he choked out. “Tear me apart and take the souls back. It doesn’t matter. I’m nothing without him.”

The serpent was suddenly right in his ear. “That’s not true.”

“W-what?” 

Frankenstein looked up from his spot on the cliff. The vision of the swirls of color had returned. But something had changed. This time, the violet stream was flowing instead of stagnant. Beautiful purple irises sprang forth from it, while some fell to the side and were consumed by the snake. Flow had replaced stagnation. Things were in balance. 

“W-what is this?” Frankenstein thought he might actually be delirious.

“You have a choice, human. You came here to force the Powers that Be to resurrect Cadis Etrama Di Raizel by sheer will alone. This is hubris. You cannot bend fate to your will. All you can do is stop obstructing the natural order of things. If you do this…” Here the voice of the serpent subtly changed, sounding more like a woman than a snake. “If you return all of these stolen souls to me and take your true place as an Alchemist and a Guardian instead of a Hinderer and a Blasphemer, it might be enough to bring the Noblesse back into being. But you must give up every last soul. Do you agree to the terms?” 

“Yes! Yes, I do,” Frankenstein said at once. If there was even half a chance…

But he hardly had had time to ponder this when he suddenly felt a tremendous jolt, as if each one of his individual atoms were being torn apart. He was forcibly being separated from the Dark Spear and it was excruciating.

Each one of the souls leaving him was like an electric shock, but he saw them all, every single one of thousands. Mothers clutching their children in their last moments, shivering in the throes of a virulent plague; men felled by sharp arrows in war; werewolves cursing human betrayal with their last breath. Their spirits passed through Frankenstein and they were inhaled immediately by the ravenous serpent. Soul after soul passed through in endless procession. Although it hurt dreadfully, it was also an enormous relief. Carrying all of those souls within him had taken a terrible toll.

“Frankenstein. You must embrace your calling.”

**_You must restore the flow._ **

It wasn’t clear to him exactly what that would entail, but as the last of the souls were stripped away from him and fed to the serpent – including many of the ones he himself had absorbed, Gradeus, Ignes, and finally Crombel - something started happening.

Light as a feather, he felt as if his very DNA were recombining. A new life-giving energy had replaced the Dark Spear, infusing his system with light. At that moment, something warm descended onto his back. He turned his head and saw that the rosy-fingered dawn had arrived.

 _Finally,_ he thought, tears streaming down his cheeks. _The cycle is complete._

Frankenstein let go of the cliff and fell.

***

_Stage Four, rubedo: the reddening. Earth, conjunction, coagulation, precipitation and sublimation of the purified element. The rose, the phoenix, the blood. Reuniting parts as a whole, life-death-rebirth cycle complete. Nutrix eius Terra est, “The Earth is its nurse.”_

The life-giving red earth. Strength, stability, solid ground. His beloved Master.

Frankenstein had misunderstood. He had misunderstood everything.

His Master wasn’t gone.

The Noblesse Aeternus would always return.

Not because Frankenstein had obsessively tried to bend reality to his own will. But because it was simply the natural order of things. A Noblesse would always exist. His Master did not need him to bend reality. He just needed him to do his part.

The souls of the Dark Spear had not wanted to consume him, after all. Not really. They simply wanted to be free. They wanted release. Dissolution, purification, coagulation, sublimation. As he had watched them being devoured by the serpent, he did not feel the terror of losing the power they had loaned him. Instead he felt the peace of their souls finally going to rest. _Was this what his Master felt? Every time he sent a soul to rest?_ He had always thought that it was a painful and difficult process… but that was only because _he had missed half of it._ Frankenstein had thought that he had accrued so much knowledge, so much power… He almost laughed at himself. He knew nothing.

The red earth underneath him felt nurturing, strengthening and calming. He nearly forgot what he was doing and why he was here, until he saw it, shining brightly in front of him: the wand of the alchemist, Hermes’ caduceus. _That_ was what he had seen in the previous vision: the multicolored streams intertwined, the two serpents eternally crossing.

 _Of course._ Many alchemists throughout the ages had been confused into thinking that the _lapis philosophorum,_ the stone of the philosophers, that which is created by alchemical transmutation, was a _literal_ stone. Frankenstein had long suspected that the bloodstones created by Crombel and the rest of the Union were actually failed philosophers’ stones. But the true _lapis philosophorum_ was the caduceus itself. The staff that grants life and death. Only Frankenstein had never met an alchemist who was actually able to wield it.

_Until now._

“In time, human,” a woman’s voice echoed along the cliffs. Frankenstein sat up. He was on a cliffside beach with deep red sand, the rising sun just peeking over the wine-dark sea. Next to him was a woman in white robes with snakes entwined in her long, braided hair. “In time, you may prove yourself worthy of the ability to use this. On this day, however, you may wield it only once, Alchemist. Choose wisely.”

Frankenstein chose. As his fingers gripped the shining staff, he sensed something… a feeling of being truly _alive_ that he had never felt before.

The last thing he heard was an enormous CRACK.

Then darkness fell.

***

Upon awakening, the strangest sound met his ears. _Crying?_ Moving painfully from his place on the floor of the shrine, feeling like he’d just been beaten by a thousand angry werewolves, Frankenstein sat up and stared. The stone table had cracked, right down the middle. And in the center of the broken pieces was the absolute last thing Frankenstein had expected: a newborn infant, lying in a pile of ashes, crying its little heart out.

A sudden upsurge of hope flooded through Frankenstein as he scrambled over to scoop the babe into his arms. _No… it’s not possible?_

The infant was so little that Frankenstein could have held him in one palm. He could not remember ever seeing a creature so small. Its little button nose, tiny shell-like ears and miniature arms and legs that were flailing in every direction absolutely captivated him. But it was not until the baby stilled and opened its huge red eyes that he knew.

“Master!” he whispered, kissing the top of the newborn’s head with quivering lips. “Welcome back to the world.”

Frankenstein cradled the tiny Noblesse close to his chest and wept tears of relief and absolute elation.

***

It turned out that Frankenstein had indeed been extremely thankful to Tao for keeping that plane flying. It had all once again seemed like a blur, but he had made it home, with the addition of one tiny Noblesse, all in one piece. Completely exhausted, he collapsed into bed, his little Master curled up by his side.

He awoke much later to the sound of his name.

“Franken… stein…”

Startled, he sat up in bed. Quite a surprise awaited him. There was his Master, fully grown, standing in the center of the room, his long hair flowing down his back, red eyes uncertain.

“Franken-stein…”

Momentarily struck dumb, Frankenstein _stared._

“…who am I?”

Pulling himself together, Frankenstein climbed out of bed, then immediately dropped to one knee.

“Your name is Cadis Etrama Di Raizel. And you are my Master.”


End file.
